Bucket List

He was awake but he kept his eyes closed against the warm sunshine. Tentatively he wiggled his toes against the smooth cotton sheet and breathed out a sigh. He relished these few precious pain-free seconds because he knew that as soon as he moved his legs he would be swallowed up in pain like a slow motion action movie tsunami. Unstoppable and devastating. 

With a resigned frown he positioned his hands so that he could push himself up into a sitting position. Teeth gritted, he started to put weight on his hands and wrists and then collapsed back with a grunt. Pain seared through his thighs like a hot knife through butter. A prickle of sweat touched his brow, his armpits and his lower back. Tears formed at the outer corners of his eyes and he swallowed hard trying to gain some control of his broken body. He tried again and managed to move an inch or so before his shaking arms gave out and he sobbed with frustration. The luxurious feeling of his toes against the soft bedding was a distant memory. A familiar numbness had taken over his feet and ankles. 

Heart still hammering he took a deep breath and shoved his body upwards until he was sitting up. He leaned his head back and the sweat on the back of his neck felt cold against the downy pillow. His long-gone beautiful smile had been replaced by a permanent grimace that said ‘no more now’. He was so tired. Tired of the pain. His fingers were aching from gripping the bedding in an attempt to fight through the agony flooding through his legs and hips. He turned his head towards the glass patio table next to him and reached for his tablet dispenser. Opening the next full compartment he emptied several tablets into the palm of his hand and then carefully placed them one by one on his tongue. He returned his tablets to the table and picked up a glass of water. “Do your job well,” he silently told the medication as it was washed down his throat. He laid his head back and looked up at the underside of the leaves of a huge Yukka plant. Not for the first time his mind was blank, full of nothing but throbbing, slicing, piercing and stinging. 

As usual, given a little time, a warm floaty feeling crept over him, rinsing his pain away - not entirely, but enough for him to be able to relax his face, let go of the bedding and breathe more normally. He breathed in deeply through his nose and could smell the garden. It was early summer and the sun was warming the soil. He loved his garden. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to scrutinise the landscape before him. Just the vision of his lawn was enough to make him smile and as the fog of pain dissipated in his mind he remembered all those years ago when his children were small, playing rough and tumble on the lawn, when he’d catch them retrieving balls from the flower beds and when they would watch silently as bees collected pollen from the bright pink stocks and the dark purple lavender. He smiled as he laid back down, eyes closed and breathed deeply. An ache radiated across his ribs but the sweet scent of buddlia and clematis filled his nose and calmed him. He focused his mind and tried to isolate the individual flowers that he could smell. Wisteria and sweet peas came to him instantly, so recognisable. And as his mind’s eye roamed around his garden he saw the pergola covered in creamy white clematis. He had had his marriage blessed under that pergola. What a beautiful day that had been. Both he and his wife had been barefoot, he wore simple linen trousers and a shirt and she wore a long white bohemian cotton dress and had gypsophila in her long fair hair. She was such a natural beauty, a real English rose. He had loved her very much. Memories of Elizabeth and the children made him think about his life as a family man. He thought about the first house they lived in and the red rose bush that he’d planted in a tub, intending to take it with him should they move to another house. Of course, they did move to a bigger house when the children came along and the tub had gone along with them. 

He smiled to himself and thought about the things that he had achieved in his life, the places he had been and the legacy he would leave behind. Suddenly a bolt of pain shot through his back causing him to moan out loud through gritted teeth. The pain stopped as quickly as it had started and he tentatively relaxed into the chair once more. A gentle breeze blew through the garden and he felt cold on his face. He thought it might have started to rain but when he opened his eyes he realised that it was not raining, he was crying. He brushed away his tears and, still looking up at the sky, gave thanks for the life he had had. To whomever he was giving thanks he told them he was ready to go, that the pain was too much now. As an after thought he added that he would have loved to see the snow just one more time. It had always transformed his garden into a dazzling white wonderland. The delicate white snowdrops gracefully bending their heads, the small yellow aconites and the clusters of pink Daphne had all stood out against the cold, white, sparkly blanket. He sighed and for a few moments he dozed. But then his leg twitched and he was again bracing himself as that hot knife sliced through his thigh. He gasped and squeezed his eyes closed trying to breathe through the pain. One huge burst of agony exploded inside him, like a firework. Hot pain rained down into every nerve of his body. He screamed as his body convulsed against the chair-bed, throwing his head back against the warm, damp pillow. And then it was over. The pain had gone. There was no slow dissipation of agony into ache. Cautiously, he waited for the unexpected bite but it didn’t come. For a moment as he lay there, still panting and feeling as light as a feather, he realised that he had tears on his face again. He wiped them away but all he could see were soft white snowflakes covering his garden, his flowers, the pergola and him.